


Quietly In To That Good Night

by raendown



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Sick Fic, Tobirama can be dramatic too, he's definitely related to Hashirama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 18:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16455056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raendown/pseuds/raendown
Summary: Tobirama is dying. Well, according to him, at least.





	Quietly In To That Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by some ADORABLE art on tumblr by @[dahtwitchi](https://dahtwitchi.tumblr.com/post/179518007863/my-kinda-hurtcomfort-right-now-all-the-way-give)

If this was death it was a worse death than he thought he deserved. Give him dismemberment, give him poison, give him a slow agonizing wait feeling every drop of blood leave his body knowing help is too far away. _Anything_ but this disgusting virus driving stakes through his brain, filling his nose with mucus that ran without pause no matter how many tissues he rubbed himself raw with. The end of his nose felt like fire but it had nothing on the back of his throat. Tobirama longed for the days when breathing wasn’t such a god damned chore.

Having a cold, he decided, was worse than death. Unfortunately Hashirama had refused him when he pled his case, telling him he would get better in a few days if he just rested enough. It would have been kinder to put him out of his misery now as he’d asked. His brother was so cruel.

Shivering, Tobirama cracked one gummy eyelid open and rolled it down to glare at the blanket draped across his feet. He was freezing. The ginger tea he’d been drinking hadn’t warmed him as much as he’d hoped but he could be so much more comfortable if only he could reach that blanket. If he were in better health he could have gripped it in his toes and dragged it up with all the thoughtless flexibility of a well-trained shinobi. Right now it might as well have been at the other end of the world. Each limb felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Not to mention he was fairly sure that if he moved his head would roll right off his shoulders.

Fuck it. As much as he wanted warmth, he wanted sleep more. Maybe he could fall asleep and never wake up again; that would be nice.

The slamming of the front door made him wince, curling his arms against his chest and whining piteously. Did no one in this village respect the dead or dying? Clearly he was on his last legs here. Why did the world see fit to kick him down farther when he was already laid so low?

“HASHIRAMA!” Of course. Of-fucking-course Madara chose now to show up. That idiot wouldn’t know how to be quiet if his life depended on it.

“MADARA!” Hashirama wasn’t any better, a cheery smile almost audible in his voice as he called out from the kitchen. “WE HAVE TO BE QUIET, TOBI IS ILL AND SLEEPING!”

He knew very well that it wasn’t worth the effort to point out that Hashirama wasn’t following his own advice, he really did. That did not stop the urge to find his brother and spit directly in to the man’s mouth. See how _he_ liked dying of the World’s Worst Cold. Tobirama clenched his eyes shut again and prayed the two idiots would go spar on the other side of the village or something. All he wanted was a bit of peace so he could continue to suffer quietly, was that too much to ask?

Footsteps on hardwood trundled past him like small bursts of thunder striking against his ripping headache but Tobirama chose to focus on the entrancing sensation of Madara’s fiery chakra. Gods above, he would give anything just to crawl inside that man’s chakra signature right now.

“Yeah, yeah,” Madara was grumbling under his breath. “Very…likely. Oh.”

The steps paused just behind the couch and Tobirama could feel those eyes on him. He was all too familiar with being the focus of Madara’s attention, although usually there was a lot more hostility behind it. He wondered what was so fascinating about his pathetic, limp form that held the older man’s gaze but didn’t bother to open his eyes or roll over to ask.

Something rustled and the _firewarmthsafetyhot_ chakra drew closer. For a moment he thought maybe Madara intended to strangle him in his moment of weakness – and honestly he wasn’t sure he would protest too strongly right now – but then he felt the blanket on his feet lift and slide. His surprise was so great he very nearly projected out of his body entirely when he felt the thick comforter being draped gently across his body and then tucked in around his toes. Tobirama opened his eyes just in time to catch the back of Madara’s head as he disappeared around the corner in to the kitchen.

Exaggerated whispering broke out in the next room but Tobirama did not have the wherewithal to listen in. A new symptom had just appeared. His fever appeared to be concentrated in his face for some reason because his cheeks were suddenly _burning_.

Exhausted, embarrassed, and thoroughly confused, Tobirama pulled the blanket up just a tiny bit more to cover his eyes and wondered which would be more painful: letting this stupid cold run its natural course or facing Madara again with the memory of those calloused fingers oh so gently tucking him in for a nap.


End file.
